


Husbandry

by neveroffanon



Series: jumping the gun [2]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Multi, Or maybe they are?, Possessive Rio, Rio POV, Rio and Beth aren’t a thing?, Rio is not soft, Takes place after 2.13, this is all very unbeta'd, who knows with these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-03-30 01:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19031536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neveroffanon/pseuds/neveroffanon
Summary: Rio survives.  Time for him to pick up the pieces.





	1. Chapter 1

_I don’t want it._  The words got stuck, reversed, replayed, rewound.  The mascara dripped, the tears fell, the gun popped.   _I hate you._   _I love you.  You scare me._   It was like a record scratching in his ears, her voice shaking, warbling, distorted.   _I don’t want it._

“There he is.  We got him.”  The voices went on, nonsensical, garbled.  All he could see, all he could hear was the roar of the gun, his gun in her hand, and the look on her face.

When a hand moved over his face, he stared at it, watching it descend, inching closer, plastic gripped in it.  It settled like a muzzle over his jaw, and suddenly he was a kid, pop’s age, spying on the Rottweiler chained on the other side of the fence.  It had laid in the dirt, not even snapping at him when he’d pushed a stick through the slats to poke at its flank.  The muzzle had clamped its teeth shut, and somehow all he could think when he poked at it, was how sad the thing looked.  How it may as well be dead, if it couldn’t even open its own mouth when it chose.  

“Come on, asshole.  You don’t want to get intubated, then you’re getting bagged.  Breathe damn it.”  The voice came from above, and he was awake and himself again.  Laying on his back, three holes in his chest, staring up at Turner and paramedics, bouncing in the back of an ambulance.  He breathed, looking at Turner, ignoring the screaming pain in his chest, and thought about chains.

* * *

“—Not my fault.  I told you she was complicit.  Boland admitted to it because she was trying to protect her girls.  She isn’t some—.”  Rio peeled open an eye, fighting to haul it open and keep it that way.  It was the fed, and sleeping wasn’t an option.  Not with his dirty ass in the room.  He got both his eyes open and peered around the room.  No windows.  Door with a lock.  Turner wasn’t stupid.  

“I’m telling you.  The money isn’t all of it.  Boland is the key to it all.  Just give me a few more months.”  

“I’m hearing you, and I disagree, sir... Understood.”

Rio swallowed against the dryness in his throat, listening to Turner.  Elizabeth got off, like she usually did.  A mama, a clean record, those eyes, it was hard for the law to recognize a bad bitch in a package like that, even now.  He let his eyes close for a moment, chest swelling with an ache that washed over him like a wave.  Rio let it crash over him.  He wasn’t dead, and having feelings was proof of it.  When he opened his eyes next, Turner stood over him.  His face, the whole right side of it, was red and swollen.  Rio, smiled, tilted his head a little.  

“You were got good, boss.  You’d think a federal agent would be watchin his back a little more,” the words came on a puff of air.  He could speak louder if he wanted, but this wasn’t a man to be hard with.  Turner liked games, and he needed to see the lay of the land.

Turner stared at him and then settled on the edge of the gurney.  It creaked under his weight, and Rio felt something shift in his chest.  He blinked, fast, and breathed shallow, almost missing Turner’s words.  

“You’d think a big man like you would know better than to have a new kid like that soccer mom do her initiation by killing an FBI agent.  What was that man?  That was almost stupid.”

“Nah,” Rio replied, on the back of a breath.  “That wasn’t no initiation.  She ain’t no soldier.  And if you think that she is, you didn’t listen to a goddamn thing I said last night.”

“No, I heard you man.  Counterfeiting, robbery, drug trafficking, kidnapping, accessory to murder.  I heard it all.  But what made you think your girl would be willing to kill for you?”  Rio closed his eyes and opened them again, thinking about pearls swinging bright and clean from a knob in darkened warehouse.  

“You ever see something so dirty, you can’t help but wanna clean it?  Polish it?  Make it shine?”

“I’m not Bob Vila, so no.”

Rio raised an eyebrow at him.  “She needed that cherry popped.  One way or another.”  

“Well something got popped alright.  Sure as hell did.  Your lungs.  Damn near your heart.  Guess you’re a good teacher.”

Rio nodded at him, not bothering to reply.  He kept his eyes open, gauging the play of the fed’s eyes and mouth.  Elizabeth was a good shot.  He’d made sure of that.  Didn’t need his investment getting got before the dividends started paying in.  And if it landed him in custody, again, then more fool him for letting things play instead of putting her and her crew to bed after the first time.  He shut off the thoughts, like a fence swinging shut, before he could see her face in his mind again.  Before she could say anything more than _I don’t want it_.

“Well you made it through.  What do you think happens now?”

“Sounds to me like that’s up to the big guns,” Rio paused, tried to control his face.  He was tired, though, and sometimes it felt good to let go.  So he did, and blamed it on the pain meds.  “I mean, you ain’t got a leg to stand on right, with your key witness being alive.  His fiancée reporting his ass for assault and all.  You got jackshit man.”

“No, no,” Turner settled himself again, the swollen pads of his eyebrow and cheek folding on one side and the good side of his face crinkling in a smile on the other.  “You’re in my corner now, remember?  I save your life, you give me what I want.”

Rio raised a hand, squashed down a wince, and scrubbed a hand over his jaw.  “There was... something.  But the terms weren’t clear.  If you wanna do business, you need to be upfront.  So what is it you want Agent Turner?”  He let his hand fall down to his side, and waited.  

“Beth Boland.  I want proof of her crimes.  Her actual crimes, not ones she’s pretending to have done to distract my investigation.”

“And for me?  What do I get?”

“You get to stay out of jail for kidnapping and assault of a federal officer.”

“Did you see me kidnap you?”

“I’m not going to play with you—.”

“Did you see me lay a hand on you?”

“Assault and kidnapping.  That’s what happened.   You can mess around if you want to, but we both know how the chips will land in court.”

Rio smiled, though he wanted to laugh.  Turner was cute, the same way bulldog puppies were cute.  The squished faces, yipping like they were big, when in a few years time they’d be wheezing themselves into an early grave.  “So you want proof.  I ain’t got that.”

Turner’s lips pressed tight, before he smiled and rocked toward him.  Rio watched him, holding his face still, barely breathing.  Because of course, he knew what was coming next.  A little pain, a hand pressed tight over the bandages that covered the three holes Elizabeth had placed in him.  He held himself steady, and waited.  Turner sat so close, Rio could feel the heat of him, smell the iodine or whatever it was that coated his bruised face, and spoke softly.  “I’ll say to you same as what I told your boy Eddie.  Soon as you get out of this bed, you and me will go to that bar you like so much.  You know the one.  You do your side hustles there, don’t you.  Somebody wants something done, get downtown to Lucky’s and for the right price Rio will do for you.  Isn’t that right?  Well, it’ll be me and you, sitting having a nice drink, while you do for me.  How’s that sound?”

He leaned away and Rio stared at him, chest burning.  He dragged in a breath, shallow, gasping, and bit down on the words that threatened to tumble free.  Digging his teeth into his lip helped, and he managed to keep his mouth shut.  The lay of the land was coming clearer every minute Turner kept yapping, and that was all that mattered.  Soon as it was all out, the sooner he could start working. 

“What do you think’s going to happen once words gets around that Rio’s doing business with the FBI?” 

“I don’t know, Agent Turner, if my client will be doing anything with anyone for the foreseeable future.  His physicians say that he’ll need several months of rehabilitation and strict bedrest before he can begin to go back to his normal life,” Rio jerked his head toward the door, neck popping, chest screaming.  Gretchen stood in the threshold, feet planted wide.  She stared past him, at Turner.  “You will need to leave the room Agent.  Unless my client is facing charges?”

Turner gazed at her, shifting back and up from the bed.  “I don’t know that I’ve seen you before.”

“My client has a clean record, Agent.  There’s been no need for you to see me before.  And unless you have charges,” Gretchen laid stress on the word, “then you’ll never see me again.”

“A clean record, huh.  Doesn’t really seem his style,” Turner replied and moved around the gurney.  He reached in his pocket, and pulled out  his wallet.  As he slipped past Gretchen in the door, she barely inched over to give him room, he passed her a card.  “I’m sure we’ll be in touch with each other.  This’ll make it easier.”

Rio watched him leave, and flicked his eyes to Gretchen.  She moved closer, sighing, and pulled the door tight behind her.  When she was close enough to whisper, she flicked open her purse and pulled out a Walkman.  Rio grinned at the sight, and she rolled her eyes.  “It’s the least tech thing I’ve got.  It can’t even accidentally record anything,” she said, flicking it on to a station blasting a radio jockey’s mid-morning show.  She settled it on the bed, and looked up at him.  “You said you were being careful.  Is this,” she threw a hand toward his chest, “careful?  By any definition?”

Rio sighed, and from his shoulder to his hips regretted the movement.  He sucked in a shallow breath and held it until the pain passed.  “We don’t got all day Counselor.”

“Do they have something?”

“My phone.  The address where pop and I would stay at... her.”

“Her.”  Rio looked away for a moment, and it was enough of an opening that Gretchen sighed and settled on the edge of the gurney.  She pushed the Walkman out from between them before she spoke again.  “The same one,” her voice was flat, but the wrinkled lines between her eyebrows spoke a different story.  

Rio lifted a hand in a shrug, carefully.  He didn’t want to get into it.  Not with three holes in him. 

Gretchen sighed again, and pressed a hand over her hair, and spoke even softer.  “Your phone should be clean enough.  All legitimate calls, right?”

“Yeah.  The school, the club, you know,” he replied.  

“The apartment is a lost cause... and so is she.”  

“Right right,” Rio leaned himself toward her, ignoring the pull in his shoulder as he shifted things that weren’t meant to be shifted yet.  “I ain’t worried about the apartment.  It’s her that we need to watch.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying since the outset, if you remember.  She started this, and you let it go.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did,” Gretchen showed him her teeth, and it came close to looking like a smile.  “You let her go. I’ve seen what she looks like, I can see the attraction.  But she’s a loose end.  You don’t do loose ends.”

“She owed me, and I collected.”

“Your boys tell me you collected quite a lot.”  Gretchen tilted her head at him, waiting.  He leaned back, the pull in his chest twisting deeper.  

“I ain’t paying you, Counselor, to tell me where to put it.”

“Someone needs to.  You haven’t asked about your son.”

Rio swallowed, fighting not to show the guilt that squeezed at him.  “Pop’s alright.  He’s not even in the state.  His mama and them will keep him straight.”  Marcus would be fine.  He was smart, better, kinder at six, than his own father had been his whole life.  Being out of Detroit, somewhere no one could link him with his father was better.  He swallowed, pushed away the memory of the boy’s voice begging to come home with him.  

Gretchen looked down, shaking her head and drummed her fingers on the thin covers.  The dead, dry noise of it itched at him.  “You’ve lost your damn mind, you know that right?  I knew, _I knew_ , you were a couple cards short, since you’re doing what you’re doing instead of working on Wall Street.  But this woman is making it worse,” her voice deepened from its usual flatness.  “She’s enabling you.  Distracting you.  I thought you were getting out.”

“I got people.  And people can’t live without money.  If I’m out, I need someone to take my place.”  The words came out, and settled in the air between them like thunder before a storm. 

“Don’t lie to me.  You,” she came closer, hissed at him, the wrinkles deep etched between her eyebrows, “you kidnapped, beat, and then coerced this woman to kill a federal agent.  Those aren’t the actions of a man trying to find his successor.  You’re trying to stay in.  And I’m telling you to stop or you’ll end up with more than bullet wounds.”

“Have a little patience, yeah?” Rio said, after a long moment of keeping silent.  He wanted to snap at her, tell her to keep off talking to the boys, to shut up about Elizabeth, to fuck off with the nagging, but he hadn’t gotten this far by ignoring advice.  “Turner wants me to play state’s evidence,” he said instead.

“Did he say that?”

“Nah, but he ain’t no Boy Scout.  He tryin to bring me and mine down.  Plus whoever else he can get his hands on.”

“Dangerous,” Gretchen snapped the word and sat straight.

“Pays well,” Rio fired back.  

“Until deals fall through one too many times and word gets around that’s its always your deals that the feds bust.”

“I’m getting out Counselor.  Business is booming, ain’t it?  Taxes gettin paid.  Got clean books at every establishment,” Rio crooked a smile at her, ignoring her glare. 

“And to keep things going in the right direction, I need you to keep your temper and tie up your loose ends.” 

“Me and her ain’t getting tied up anytime soon Counselor.”

“You need to let her go.  She’ll be fine.  The feds will release the dealership, they’ll be earning money again soon—.”  Rio let go of the hand he’d grabbed, as soon as her voice trailed off.  “Counselor, I ain’t up in your bed with you, so you need to get out of mine.  That’s it.  No more about this.  Tell my boys to keep an eye out, and make sure she ain’t talking to no one.  I’ll take care of the rest.”  He peered at her, fighting against the dragging exhaustion that wanted to shut his eyes.

“If you’re going to make a deal with Turner, you need to discuss it with me.  Is that clear?” she stood from the bed, brushed out her pants and turned off the Walkman.  Rio nodded, eyes already closing.  “Right, I got you.”  He listened to the click of her heels on the floor, the slide of the door and the click of it shutting.  When it was still and silent, he opened the fence in his mind and let himself visit her.  She was there, stupid chains finally falling from around her, muzzle slipping off her mouth.  She screamed, and it was the best and the worst thing he’d heard in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Bob Vila is an American home improvement television show host known for This Old House, Bob Vila's Home Again, and Bob Vila.


	2. Chapter 2

“You ever think about how we got in this?”  Rio settled back in the seat, pulled out a case from his coat pocket.  His fingers worked through rolling up the paper and lighting without thought. He hadn’t thought it would be necessary, but now that the time had come, he was feeling the strain in his chest.  So he took a hit and tried to stretch the tension out of his shoulders. 

“We?  We didn’t get into anything together so far as I know,” Turner stirred a little beside him, sniffing, waved a hand in the air between them.  “The only thing  _we_ are doing is bringing down criminals.”

Rio chuckled low in his throat, shuttering his eyes against the bright, searing streetlight standing sentinel outside the walls of the car.  “We got into it about ten years ago.  You was some low level admin then, they tells me.  No future at the agency.  No friends.  Nothin but a pretty wife and a shit ton of debt,” Rio opened his eyes again and moved to face Turner in the other seat.  The other man’s face was frozen in something more irritated than his usual poker face, and Rio almost felt like smiling at the sight.  “Then who comes along but me, upsetting the natural order of things.  And you, in the right place and the right time to see some of it go down.”

“Are you seriously smoking weed right now?  Jesus, man.  Have some professionalism,” Turner reached a hand toward him, and Rio smacked his hand away.  

“Not much, and it’s medicinal, Agent Turner.  For the residual pain.  From those gun shots, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.  Tell it to the judge.  That was almost a year ago.  If you got pain, it’s cause you got your heart broken,” Turner grumbled the words, rolled down the window, and looked away to stare outside.  Rio shrugged.

“I’m focused, man.  I’m here.  They’re here, your guys is here.  We all just one big, happy family, here, together.”  Rio took another hit and set it aside.  “You gotta admit though, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t never have come as far as you have.  You a team leader now, leading raids, putting people undercover, all of it.  How’s it feel?”

Beside him, Turner settled low into the seat, crossed his arms and sighed.  “It’s boring, isn’t it?  Working for the side of the angels.  I mean, I can’t even begin to imagine how much fun it must have been, organizing all that.  You had people in Baltimore, in Detroit, you were branching out into Canada, before your girl took care of you.”

“ _Hmm_.  Yeah, who’s to say I won’t get back in it one day, you know,” Rio watched the building ahead of them, squinting against the light and saw what they’d been sitting around waiting for.  He rubbed his hands over his knees and sat forward.  “And away they go,” he nudged his chin toward the people leaving the building.  “You up boss.”

“I guess I am,” Turner sat up and put a hand on the door.  “You aren’t coming with me?  Or no, I guess that would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?”  He made a noise, a little breathless laugh, which Rio ignored in favor of picking up the blunt again.  Turner swung the door open and a rush of freezing air swirled in his wake.  Rio leaned back, tilted his head toward the ceiling and took a drag. 

The door swung shut, and Rio closed his eyes.  Outside, he could hear Turner starting to speak. 

_Federal agent.  I’m going to need to see hands.  
_

_Now you can try that it you want to, but my guys here, they might take issue with you trying to shoot me.  
_

_Oh good.  You guys are the smart type._ Behind his lids, Rio could feel the floodlights snapping on, one by one, until it was almost as bright as the midday sun, rising to its full height in the sky.

_And Mrs. Boland.  How are you?  I see you’ve been making new friends.  Couldn’t settle for being mom, huh._

* * *

“You want me to do what?”

“You gettin old Counselor?  You can’t hear all of a sudden?"

Gretchen leaned into his space, phone clutched in one hand.  “Don’t try this shit with me.  I don’t have time for it.  You know this is crazy talk.  Her girls have been rolling with her from day one, and somehow you expect me to convince them to turn on her?”  She sneered at him, pushed her hair back from her face and paced away to the windows of her office. 

Outside, rain was falling steadily, while the sun gleamed.  “There’s a saying about shit like this.”

“I really don’t feel like playing with you right now, so if you could hurry it along with the mansplaining, I’d appreciate it,” Gretchen sighed.  

Rio smiled at her back. “Rain fallin while the sun is shining, the devil must be beatin his wife.”

Gretchen kept silent, but the phone in her hand creaked in her grip.  Rio watched her knuckles turn white and stood, loosening his shoulders.  He waited, but she didn’t turn around.  “Keep me in the loop, yeah?”

“Of course.  You’ll be contacted about the bill.”

“Oh, of course.”  He made for the door, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and strode through the cubicles outside.  The volume of noise fell, and then rose as he walked toward and waited by the elevator, as if self-conscious.  They were a pack of brown nose fools, but they could do litigation like nobody’s business, so it was worth every penny of his money. 

His phone chimed with a reminder.   _Hill 2p, Turner 4p._ Rio shrugged the phone back into his pocket and pulled out his keys. 

* * *

“And who are you again?”

“A friend,” Rio paused, tried to muzzle a smile, but couldn’t stop himself.  He coughed, cleared his throat and went on.  “Ruby’s old boss.  She here?”

 _“_ Pretty sure Ruby has never had a boss like you. So maybe you just step off my porch man,” Rio watched the other man pull back and begin to swing the door shut and waited until it was almost flush to speak again.

“You arrested my boy, my Eddie.  Remember him?  A little stupid, turned snitch for the feds?”  The door stopped moving, a stripe of space between it and the frame.  Rio turned half away from the door, pulled his hands from his pockets and stretched upright.  “That was near two years ago.  You might not remember.  But your wife, your Ruby, she’d remember.  She helped me take care of him.  Her and Annie.  And Elizabeth.”

The door swung wide, and Rio stepped into the threshold like he’d meant to do it all along.  Stan stared at him, eyes narrowed.  “I don’t know who you think you are but you need to get out my door.”

“We can talk on your porch for the whole hood to see or you can let me in for five minutes and I ain’t never gonna see you again.  Not with intention, anyway,” Rio leaned toward him, until the other man moved back. 

He stepped in and glanced around.  He’d seen it all before, way back when everything had gotten started.  It was no different now.  Still tight, filled with music and books, and all the mess that came with kids.  It stung a little, so he moved off toward the kitchen and sat at the island, waiting.

“So are you going to tell me why you’re here?  Are you really looking for Ruby or are you looking for me?” Hill stood in the archway that led to the kitchen, arms crossed. 

“Nah.  I’m looking for you.  Your Ruby, she’s known Elizabeth her whole life, am I right?” 

Hill shrugged, “Yeah.  So?”

“So she needs to make a choice now, cause the girl she came up with, that girl is bout to go away.  And if you don’t want your family to go under the way Elizabeth is about to, you need to step up man.”

“Meaning what?  Come work for you?  Be one of your boys?”  Hill stepped closer, foot tapping wildly.  “Be a gangbanger?  Shame my daughter and my son, again?”

Rio sucked in a lip and chewed on it.  It was not at all what he’d come for.  But letting it play out might give him something better.  “And why not right?  You earn some money, don’t have to worry about your bills.  Don’t have to worry bout your wife messing around with guns and shit.”

“I am; I was a police officer—.”

“And how’d that work out for you, big man?  The FBI got your ass fired, you working private security right now, ain’t you?  You ain’t no law man.  You just doing what you can to feed your people,” Rio settled his arms on the table, slid a card toward the edge of the island closest to Hill.  “Elizabeth and your wife, what they had gotta end.  Me and you, though, we could start something new.  Something legit.”

“If what?”

“If you call that lawyer and tell her you and your wife want to testify against Elizabeth Boland.  Once you do, I’ll be in touch.”

Hill inched closer and squinted down at the card.   Still looking down at it, he spoke, less belligerent than before.  “Why’re you doing this man?  I mean, you’ve left Ruby and them alone for months now.  They thought you... we all thought you were done.  How are you back?”  Hill’s voice trailed off. 

“That ain’t your problem,” Rio stood, “Tell Miss Ruby I said what’s up.”

“If I don’t?”  Hill fired back the question, glaring up at him.  

Rio shrugged, stuffed his hands in his pockets.  “Then don’t.  Good luck telling her where you got the card, though.”

He brushed by him, taking a last sweep around the place, held back a sigh, and pulled open the door.  The Hills would call.  If they wanted to save their pretty house for their kids, they would call.  

* * *

Rio leaned against the frame of the window, watching the street below.  It was afternoon during late fall in Detroit and not too many people were up to the chill; the few that wandered had the look of people who couldn’t find a place to stay.  He watched, scanning aimlessly, ignoring the buzz and shake of his phone in his pocket.  It was four, and Turner was a no-show.  Which worked for him. 

A flip this big needed time to come to grips with. Toronto, Baltimore, Santiago, everywhere was feeling the squeeze.  And when pockets started getting thin, that was when people started having delusions.  Delusions about getting big and running wild into territory they didn’t know and couldn’t handle.  The money Elizabeth brought into the system, the pills she’d been able to run, that wasn’t coming anywhere close to whetting the appetite in Detroit, and since everybody knew she’d been the one to take him down, it was only a matter of time until someone jonesing for the old days and the old ways would take a shot.  Chained as she was, blind as she was, she’d get hit.  And so would those kids, and her sister, and her friend.

Rio moved away from the window, scrubbing a hand over his chest.  This wasn’t the same place where she’d lost her mind and tried to bring him down, but it was similar enough.  Even the cameras were in the same spots.  Rio raised a glance at the one in the rafters, pressing his fingers into the meat of his chest. 

The doorbell chimed as he stared upward, and Rio shook himself out of the daze of memory and pulled his phone out of his pocket.  He pressed it open, pulled up the camera for the door.  Turner’s face, the bright eyed and eager look of a zealot, stared direct into the camera.  Rio surveyed the other man for a moment before closing the app and shoving his phone away.  He was just a piece being moved on the board, about as exciting as watching grass grow.  Rio steeled himself and went to pull open the door. 

The other man strode in, barely a glance into his face, and Rio smiled for a moment at the confidence.  He supposed most people believed a dog on a leash was safe.  Shutting the door, he took a minute to blanket his smile and then followed the other man in.  

“Your girl, she’s slippery,” Turner shucked his coat over the back of the couch, dropped onto it and pulled out a sheaf of papers.  “But this,” Turner grinned up at him as Rio came to a stop next to the couch, “is everything we need to bring Mrs. Boland in.  The DA is on board.”

“Cool,” Rio dragged out the word.  Turner frowned at him, glee slowly fading. 

“I’d think you’d be happier.  All your dudes are about to go away for a very long time, while you get off free and clear,” Turner tapped a finger on the papers.  “Beth Boland is taking the fall.  Isn’t that exactly what you wanted?”  Turner looked at him, shoulders growing tight, even as his face emptied.

Rounding the edge of the couch, Rio tucked his hand into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Turner watched him, a tilt to his head, like a puppy watching a ball.  Rio showed him the screen, and turned the phone off.  He tossed it on the couch and stood, waiting.  The fed would do it or he wouldn’t.  The fun was in the waiting.  Predicting was boring.  Predicting was all running the odds and making plans.  It was the moment of truth that made the game worth playing.  Turner moved the papers aside, pulled out his phone and flicked at the screen.  Head down, he spoke as his fingers moved.  “My team knows where I am.”

“Right.  I ain’t planning on going nowhere Agent Turner,” Rio kept his voice low.  He breathed in and sighed, quiet as he could make it, as the fed showed him that his phone was off, too. 

“So what is it that you don’t want other people to hear?”  Turner leaned back against the cushions, trying for relaxed.  But his eyebrows, his jaw, his hands showed otherwise. 

“Just wanted to talk about old times man.  In Baltimore.”

“Oh.  Look, my wife knows what’s up.  There isn’t a thing I do that that woman doesn’t know.  So if you’re trying to hold that over my head, just stop alright.”  Turner laid a hand on his phone, finger hovering over the power button. 

“Nah man.  You do you, boss.  I been there,” Rio sighed and sank down to sit on the table in front of the couch.  “But Baltimore, I’ve been wondering, how _did_ you rack up all that debt?  You a Terp, right?  Class of 2000?  If you in-state, you can’t owe that much.  Not even with a masters degree.  So what was it?”  Rio leaned over his knees, in the other man’s space, reached for Turner’s phone and set it aside. 

“How do you know that?”

“What a Terp is?  You think I didn’t go to school bro?  University of Michigan, three years.  Hopkins for finance in one,” Rio smiled into Turner’s face.  The other man sucked his teeth and spoke again.  “How do you know about the debt?”

“I looked you up boss.  Rules of war and all that,” Rio sighed.  “But what I couldn’t figure out is why?  You had a job, good pay, lived cheap.  Was it gambling?  Is that why you so hot about her?  See yourself in how she is?  About to throw it all down the drain?”

“No no.  We’re not doing this, whatever this is.  This heart to heart between the good guy and the bad guy.  We have business, so let’s focus on that.”

“This is business.  You know my secrets, but before we go to court, I gotta know if there’s something I gotta worry about.  The villain waiting in the wings man.”  Rio stretched out a hand, tapped Turner’s knee and moved his hand back.  “Say it.  Whatever it is.  I’m all in, if you say it.”

Turner stared down at his knee, then sat forward.  “Don’t touch me,” he said, teeth gritted around the words.  “We aren’t buds.  You’re a criminal.  Who has a lawyer that can spin some damn convincing bullshit about your character and your good deeds, but sure as hell isn’t anywhere close to being reformed.  So let’s not play this game.”

“Nah, we ain’t good buddies.  But we’re partners now.  And partners gotta watch each other’s backs,” Rio snorted.  “You ain’t got much of a choice though, right?”

“Ain’t that the truth?”  Turner shot him a look and leaned back, crossing his arms.  “The villain waiting in the wings, huh?”  Rio nodded, waiting.  After a long moment, Turner spoke.  “I made a mistake, before I got married, and got into some shit with a dude who wasn’t worth being on this green earth it turned out.  He put me down as a guarantor for his loans, and then managed to get killed,” Turner sighed and shook his head. 

“I never been so glad in my life that you came up the ranks when you did.  The thugs that were on my back all got popped, the big man... he was gone, all the debt was gone,” Turner laughed, the sound almost incredulous.  “Then there you were, probably more than anyone else responsible for getting me out of debt to loan sharks that would’ve killed me.”

Rio nodded.  “No villain,” he stretched his shoulders back and stood.  “Good.”  He reached slowly for his phone and grabbed Turner’s from the cushion and dropped it in the other man’s lap.  He paced away and turned the phone back on.

“So that’s it?”

Rio turned to look at him, and smiled slowly.  “We been workin together for almost a year man.  I know how you work, you clean as a whistle.  I just needed to make sure there weren’t gonna be no last minute shit.  I got tired of that with my last partner.”  He let the phone dangle between his fingers and moved to sit on the other arm of the couch. 

Turner looked up at him, and grinned, slyly.  “Yeah, she is a trip, isn’t she?”

“She’s work, man.  Serious work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Terp is a University of Maryland student.
> 
> Comments are EXTREMELY welcome :D


	3. Chapter 3

“What’d I say last time?  Oh yeah... Did you miss me?” Rio leaned toward the glass, phone pressed to his ear, grinning.  Elizabeth stared at him, eyes huge, not breathing.  Then she dragged in a breath, chest stuttering.  She clenched her fist around the receiver, eyes clenching shut for a long moment. 

“So what is this then?  You got what you wanted didn’t you?” Elizabeth, her cheeks reddened, blue eyes snapping fire, looked good, even in shit brown prison clothes.  “I mean I made you money.  Lots of money.  And you got to,” she hauled in a breath and lowered her voice to a whisper, “to sleep with me and threaten me whenever you wanted.  And here I am,” Her lips twisted in nothing like a smile.

“You gave me some good moments, yeah,” Rio gazed at her, heart speeding up, wanting to do so many things in that moment he thought he would explode.  “Not my fault you wouldn’t do what you was told.”

Elizabeth’s hands twitched around the phone, eyes fluttering down.  “What was it you told me?   _Be a boss, bitch_?”

"Yeah I did.  And what’d you do?  What you always do— fuck up cause you was lying to yourself about being ready.  You wasn’t and you still ain’t.  But I told you I’d teach you, and under me, look how far you came darlin.  You couldn’t of killed me to save your life when we first got started and now you bad enough to get me three times.  But on the real, all you had to do was be patient and follow orders and you wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Be patient and let you groom me like I was no better than a dog.  No better than a stupid bitch?” Rio watched her lips form the words, let them hang between them for a breath.  When her eyes dropped from his again, he spoke.  “We all is somebody’s bitch Elizabeth.”

“Not you,” she met his eyes again, and Rio couldn't help but smile.  She was still hungry, even this close to getting time.  “You don’t know that,” he replied and gentled his voice, “I got bosses too, ma.  Even the king got constituents.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and settled closer to the glass.  “So now what?  You’re alive and free, so why are you here?  Worried I’ll rat you out?”

“Oh no baby.  You never could.  No one can.  Something to keep in mind next time you start making trouble for yourself,” Rio shifted toward the glass too, holding himself tight.  “I came to see your face.”

“Why would you want...” Elizabeth trailed off, and he watched her pinch her lips together on the rest of her question.  Something lit her eyes a little brighter, and Rio sighed.  “I ain’t gonna be able to see it for much longer.”

She stared at him, that strange something that lit her from the inside out still illuminating her face.  Then her lips firmed, and the sparks died.  Rio didn’t know whether he was glad or sorry.  Glad won out, the longer the silence became.  She was going in, and softness wouldn’t do her a bit of good.  

“What makes you think I’m going anywhere?”  

Rio shrugged and pulled himself upright, resettled his shoulders, tried not to think too hard on what was going to be waiting for her.  “Unless you gonna have your man hire some more kids...” Rio surveyed her, and Elizabeth shrugged in turn.  “He’s not my man.  And I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

“Stupid never came into it, ma.  Hotheaded.  And you know I like what they say about hotheads,” Rio leered at her.  

“It’s hard heads, not hot heads,” Elizabeth corrected him, then stopped.  Her face colored until she looked like one of those painted Russian dolls.  All pale skin but for the deep red cheeks.  He grinned, “Whatever you say, yeah.  Take care, sweetheart.”  He moved the phone from his ear, started to place it back in its cradle. Her hand rose on the other side of the glass.  He brought it slowly back to his ear and waited.  He’d wanted, in a way that made his chest ache, for her to say something that would mean something the whole time they’d been talking.  

“I’m not stupid.  I’ve made mistakes, but at least not the same ones three times in a row,” she murmured the words, eyes huge and leaden.  

Rio tilted his head.  He remembered, without any difficulty, all her mistakes.  And the biggest ones.  Not shooting the first time he gave her his gun.  Shooting the wrong person, the second time.  “I ain’t giving no more chances Elizabeth.”

“Yes you are.  If you weren’t, you wouldn’t even be here.  You would’ve showed up at the trial and watched.  Don’t tell me you wouldn’t,” Elizabeth pressed her hand flat against the glass.

“Nah.  I’d of been there.  Looking good too.  Just for you darlin,” Rio said the words, mind starting to race.  He imagined the way it could be.  Saw her with him, for real, trained up and steady.  They could do ten years or twenty, until the kids were all grown.  And then they could let it all go and walk away.

He let it play in his mind and then quashed it.  “I came, sweetheart, to see if you was sorry for shooting your old partner.  I see you ain’t.  You just hungry.”

He shifted, started to hang up, and she rose half out of her seat, pressed the phone into her cheek.  “You said it first.  That I was work.  People end deals all the time at work.  It doesn’t mean anything.”  

“Nah darlin.  You said it first, remember? You said, it’s over.  It’s done,” Rio paused, pressed his fingers into his chest.  “I’m out.  It’s finished.”

He stood, pressed the phone down onto its cradle, holding her gaze.  Tears shone in a glaze over her eyes.  She didn’t let them fall, but stood gazing at him until the officer at the back of the room rose and brought her away.  Rio watched the doors shut behind her, feeling the slam of each metal gate.

* * *

 

“Ma’am I don’t... this is nothing.  If you listen to the entire conversation, you will hear that this is nothing.  It affects the investigation not at all.  You can’t derail the case just based on—.”

“I’ll stop you right there, Agent Turner.  You may leave the stand.  Now.”

“I am calling a recess until 2 o’clock.  At that point, I will require a clarification from the prosecution.”  The hollow slap of the gavel punctuated the words, and Rio raised his head slowly.  Gretchen had chosen her moment well.  The parts she’d chosen to play sounded almost affectionate, hinted at a closer relationship than confidential informant and federal agent.  And Turner’s decision to not reveal the truth of the night Rio had gotten shot, his signature on the dotted line ensured that unless he wanted to be in debt til his grandchildren were in college, he’d have to keep his mouth shut.  

Turner met his eyes as he left the stand and Rio looked back at him.  Elizabeth was shit at covering her tracks; trying to play room mom and run a three man crew was a setup for failure.  But the busts Turner had made in a year of chasing her had only pointed at other small-time nobodies— Rio had made sure of that.  The big problem was the cash, and himself.  Seeing her had set him off, gut twisting, chest aching with fire.  Hearing her voice, seeing her face had changed his mind.  What had been meant to use against Turner, he’d given to Gretchen and told her to defend Elizabeth with.  

A thousand times since then, he’d flipped the board in his mind.  Trying to see how to get past what she’d done.  Trying to see how to get her free, if that was what she really wanted.  Trying to find a way to keep her in, even if his chest had burned at the sight of her.  And he hadn’t found but one.

* * *

Rio slid a hand over the countertop, messy with kids' books, and drawings, and toys.  He cleared a spot and hopped up, legs swinging.  He could see straight out the window to the yard from here.  See that picnic table, the little flower bed garden she’d hid that dead body, like a dog with a bone.  The thought made him smile, a little.  The fact that she tossed a dead body, didn’t check to make sure it was the right one, and all of that led to him sitting here guarding her kitchen— it wasn’t funny enough to laugh out loud.  But it was amusing, in the same way all of Elizabeth’s drama was.  

He shoved the thoughts aside, trying to find some balance.  Every minute since that judge vacated the charges against her, he’d been thinking deep about what was the next step.  Not helped by Gretchen blowing up his phone about the next step.  Livid didn’t scratch the surface of her messages.  Nuclear came close though.  He shrugged that away too.  She could handle the fallout, for a bit, while he handled the next bomb.  

Elizabeth was getting dropped off at her house, by one of Gretchen’s team.  Early enough that her ball and chain wasn’t at the house and all the kids were at school.  They’d have all the time in the world to talk.  Rio scrubbed a hand over his chest, wondering if she’d even want to.  She knew by now that he was responsible for everything: all her successes and all her failures.  She’d know by now that even when she’d though him dead and gone and out of her way, he’d always been in control.  Always protecting her from getting shot up.  He grinned to himself, and shook his head.  Irony was a bitch with eyes bluer than the sky, driving a minivan with four kids in the back.  

A door clicked open, and Rio felt his heart stutter in his chest.  He chewed on a lip, keeping his lips shut and gripped his fingers around the countertop.  She’d come to him, eventually.   

He followed her steps with his eyes closed, imagining her frowning as she wandered around the empty house; kept silent as she came in toward the kitchen.  She gasped, a little rush of an indrawn breath.  He wanted to gulp for air too, but fought back the urge and straightened his back, waiting.  Her steps started again, around to his left, and Rio opened his eyes.  She stopped, staring, in front of him, right between his knees. He could reach out a hand and touch her if he wanted.  Fingers uncurling on their own, he stretched out a hand and pressed her hair behind her ear.  She broke away, scrubbed a hand across her eyes, and reached out the other to steady herself on the sink.

There was a beat of silence, while Rio looked at his hands, tingling, and then smoothed then down his thighs, trying to get the feeling to stop. He hadn’t come this far, just to get distracted by their fire.  Fires go out, after all.  A lifetime needed more than fire.  A lifetime needed understanding and commitment.  Neither of them had both for the other.  And they needed it, or they’d end up burning the world down around themselves, thinking that everything was fine.

He swung his legs, wrapped his fingers around the countertop again tighter this time, to remind himself not to give in and take the easy way out.  “Welcome home, ma.  I don’t got any lasagna for you.  You got bread though.  You wanna have a sandwich?” Rio asked, waited for her to look at him, and smiled a little when she did.  Her eyes scanned his face, lips trembling into something that was almost a smile.

“Sorry.  I’ve had enough sandwiches to last a lifetime,” she replied, voice coming heavy on the _sorry_.  Rio tilted his head in a nod, and waited a breath for her to blink away the tears that shone in a glaze over her eyes. 

“What are you doing in my kitchen?” she asked, clearing her throat and leaning against the sink.  She balled her hands into fists at her sides, something coloring her voice as she went on, “When they told me I had new representation, you can imagine my surprise when the lawyer told me that she was there on your... recommendation," she paused, eyes narrowing, “It wasn’t a recommendation, was it?”

“Yeah, Zorada works for me,” he surveyed her slowly, from her hair, gilt in the sunshine, to her toes.  “I thought we should talk,” he replied, moved the few steps from the kitchen to her dining room and settled in the same seat he’d had the night he’d gotten out of lockup.  

She inched forward, following him, hesitant, head swiveling around the room like it wasn’t her own house.  “You?  Want to talk to me?  That’s new.  I haven’t seen you since you came to the jail.”

“Yeah sweetheart.  Talk.  You know that thing you can’t stop doin, even when you’d be best served by shutting up?”

“That’s hilarious.”  She hovered halfway up the table toward him, a hand gripping the back of one of the chairs.  

“Bout as hilarious as your dramatic ass putting three holes in my chest.”  

“You survived, didn’t you?”  She crossed her arms over her chest, turned half away from him.  

Rio laughed, kept his teeth closed around a smile.  He thought he knew the answer to the question he wanted to ask next, but asked anyway.  “How did that feel?  Gettin your hands dirty?  Fucking me up three times?  And you was in jail for how long? Three months and you still ain’t even close to being sorry.  You still cold, huh.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it three times...”

“You turned me in, you told me it’s over, you shot me.”

“Guess you should’ve taken the hint to begin with,” Elizabeth replied, tossing her head and without warning the reins of his temper jerked out of his hand.  Rio stood, looking down at the table, gripped it hard.  “Is that right?” Rio drawled and pulled a hand away to scrub over his jaw.  He wanted to approach her, press himself into the line of her body, make her stop talking like they weren’t exactly the same.  

“You’re like a bad ex.  You won’t stop, you won’t let me go no matter what I do.  Are you in love with me or just obsessed?”  

“Whoever said anything about all that being love, sweetheart?  That was business.  You can’t up and leave when you feels like it.  You should know that.  Ain’t you the boss bitch round here?”

“Don’t mock me.  Don’t do that.”

“Ain’t nobody mocking.  You did good for bitch who said she didn’t want it.”

“You barely taught me anything!  I came up with the ideas for the shopping and the cars.  I washed cash faster and better than even you were doing.  Just because I didn’t want to kill someone doesn’t mean that I… and you wouldn’t stop.  I couldn’t get free.”  She faced him then, voice cracking on the words.  “If you weren’t going to help, why wouldn’t you just let me go?”

Rio drew a lip in between his teeth, chewed on it for a moment, looking at her, with her white knuckle grip on the chair like it was going to keep her from running away or launching herself at him.  He sighed, shaking his head once, “Nah.  You don’t get to play like this no more.  All of what I did was to clean up your sorry ass mess and make sure you and your crew didn’t get killed.  And look where that got me.”

“If I was so much work, why’d you even bother taking to me?”

“Oh and here it come,” Rio stood, walked up to her, felt the irritation like a burning hand squeezing the back of his neck.  “Blamin me some more.  You should be thanking me.”

“What, on my knees?” She looked up at him, lips drawn tight, acting like he couldn’t feel her trembling.  

“If you want.”  He watched her face as it lit like she’d been slapped on both cheeks and grinned.  

“So is this my punishment?  Getting trapped here with you until we both get killed?”

“Why would I want to keep you?  I can’t trust you.”

“If you didn’t want to keep me, then you wouldn’t have done, whatever you did, to get my case thrown out.  You wouldn’t have given me your lawyer.  I wouldn’t be talking to you.”  She paused, chest heaving.

“I would be dead, if you didn’t want me.”  She tilted her head, the hurt on her face chilling into something contemplative.  Rio watched her, and then spoke softly, wondering if she was coming to it finally.

“Mami, just cause you ain’t dead don’t mean you’re anything but work to me.”  He said, testing.  

“That’s bullshit,” she shook her head.  “You tried taking Ruby from me, you worked with Turner against me, and somehow I’m still here?  Bullshit.”

Rio leaned in, put his lips at her ear, “I thought I should be fair.  Since you ain’t kill me and all.”  She shivered against him, and turned her head away.  Rio dipped his lips into the hollow of skin exposed beneath her ear before he drew back.  

“You said you didn’t want it.  So if you wasn’t lyin to yourself again, tell me to stop.  And walk away.  No more pills, no more cars, no more cash.  You might get your girl back, and your kids.”

“A woman can’t have it all?”

Rio laughed, pressed away from her, brought his hand to her face and stroked down with a finger, feeling the heat of her.  “Tell me to stop,” he repeated the words, met her eyes.  

“What if I don’t?”

“You stay in.  And you might lose everything else.”

“That’s not a foundation for a good relationship,” 

“Neither is bangin.”

“If I...,” her voice warbled high as Rio stepped closer, wrapped his fingers around her waist, eyes on his thumb stroking a long pass atop her shirt, imagining the silken feel of her skin.  She huffed a breath and steeled her voice, “If I stay, you can’t treat me like you did before.”

“And how was that?”

“You threatened to kill me.  You called me a bitch and you meant it.  You pointed a gun at my face.”

“I put a gun in your hand,” he shrugged and inched his fingers under the hem of her shirt, tugging on it.  Her hand rose and laid on top of his own, and Rio looked into her face.  He dragged in a breath, held it for a long moment and exhaled, shaking his head.  He stilled his fingers and drew them away to tuck them in his pockets.  “Look ma.  You...,” he trailed off, had to look away from her and start over.  He could feel himself getting hot all over again, just remembering how she’d set that money down on her nightstand.  “You crossed a line, and made mistakes, and lied.  And I paid you back for it.  Eye for an eye, that medieval shit.  You remember darlin,” he smiled as her eyes flickered away from him.

“Hammurabi was way before the Middle Ages,” Elizabeth replied, still looking beyond him.  

“Thanks for the history lesson,” Rio rolled his shoulders back.  “Are you gonna thank me for your lesson too?”

She brought her gaze back, confused.  “What do you mean?”

“You can handle shit, when you want to.”  He dropped the words softly and paused.  “You ain’t half bad as a boss.  But you ain’t big time neither.”

“Who said I wanted to be big time?”

“Nobody but you.  Even Marcus knows actions speak louder than words,” he paused, and then went on, “So what you gonna do?"

She was silent.  He tilted a look at her, bent a little until they were eye level.  “Don’t be like that.  Tell me what you want.”

Her lips parted a little, and her tongue darted out to wet them.  He waited, something twisting inside him as he watched.  “Why don’t you tell me what _you_ want Christopher?”  She stepped back, and kept moving until she pulled out the chair at the end of the table and sank into it.  

The space where’d she’d been was chilled, and Rio sighed a little.  He turned, found the other seat and dropped into it.  “What we tryin to negotiate?  You ain’t got nothin to sell.  It’s simple.  You in, with me, or you out.”

Elizabeth spoke like he hadn’t said anything, chin raised high.  “You need me.  You need someone close who knows your world and what it takes and how consuming it can be.  You need somebody who will tell you no.”

Rio chuckled, stretched his hands out across the table, leaned forward toward her.  She was the most frustrating person he’d ever met.  “Did you listen to a word I said?”

“Listening to you isn’t always smart.  I realized that recently.  You say things,” she looked down, brows tightening, “...and you do things.  The truth and the lies are all jumbled up when you talk, but the way you act—like you said, actions speak louder than words.  I’ve told you I don’t know how many times that you need me.  And I think you know it’s true.  So if you can own it, then I’m in.”  Elizabeth laid her hands on the table, mirroring him.  “You’re possessive, and violent, and I shot you because you scared me and I didn’t want to do what you wanted me to do.  But when we _worked_ _together_ , we were _good_.  And I want that back.”

Rio _hmm_ ed low in his throat.  “And that’s it?”

“And that’s it.”  She settled back in her chair, arms crossed.  Rio nodded, stretched back in his chair, remembering seeing her from the other side of another table.  “And if I decide I’m out, what then?  You gonna keep on playin the game?”

“I’ll let you know when we get there,” she bit the words off, unsmiling.  He nodded, pushed himself out of the chair and walked toward her.  

“If I point a gun at you again, you sure as hell better take it from me and shoot me with it,” he sat on the table, leaned in to tilt her chin up, “and you better kill me.”  Elizabeth nodded, a sharp jerk of her head.  Rio nodded back, every muscle in body tense with the war inside him.  This close he could kiss her, and drive them down the same path they’d been before.  Walking away without acknowledging the fire between them was just as wrenching.  They’d both be chained, inside the same yard, muzzles of their own making over their faces.  After a moment, he drew back his hand and hopped off the table.  He curled his fingers over themselves, stuffed them into his pockets and made for the door.  This way was safer.  

Behind him, the chair scraped over the floor, and Elizabeth’s voice rose.  “I’m going to need you to say it.”  Rio stopped, hand on the knob, ready to pull it open.  “Just once.  That’ll be enough.”

“You think you got me on the hook now, is that it?” Rio asked, trying to hide the sudden ache in his chest.  He felt her arms press around him, hands wrapping around and sliding up to rest near his heart. 

“You’d think you never liked anyone before.  Don’t you know you’re supposed to tell your partner you like them?”

“Yeah, I don’t like you,” he rasped the words, chest tight.  He felt her laugh.  

“I don’t like you either, most of the time.  You’re such an asshole,” she laughed again and squeezed him.  “And so am I. So I’m sorry, but I’m going to need to hear you say it.”

Rio closed his eyes, raised his hand to cover hers.  “I don’t need you.”  He squeezed her hands.  

She sighed, a hot puff of air against his back.  “Fine—.”

“I want you.”

Her hands loosened and she stepped around to look up at him, smile bright enough to blind.  Rio tilted a look at her, raising an eyebrow, relief crashing over him.  He smiled, pressed a kiss over her lips, a flash of heat spiraling in him.  “Don’t mean you don’t still owe me money.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Bob Vila is an American home improvement television show host known for This Old House, Bob Vila's Home Again, and Bob Vila.


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